


Scotch and Snowmen

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Christmas, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Snowmen, Top John Watson, Virgin Sherlock, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's spending Christmas alone in the dorm...oh right Sherlock Holmes is here too...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scotch and Snowmen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Willie_The_Plaid_Jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willie_The_Plaid_Jacket/gifts).



John Watson stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he trudged back to his dorm. The campus was eerie when it was empty like this. But most students had family to go home to over break. John had received special permission to just stay here. It was only a couple weeks and at least this way he could get a head start on studying for next semester. There had been an invite from a teacher for Christmas, but he’d politely turned it down. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the holiday surrounded by happy little kids in a warm little house with a cozy little fire and a loving family. Harry was busy with her girlfriend; there hadn’t even been a phone call in two months and he wasn’t quite sure of her number these days anyways. And it would be a cold day in Hell before he’d spend one more night under his father’s roof.

As he reached the dorm, he looked up and realized there was a light on. Ah, right, Sherlock Holmes was still here too. He did have family to go to, but as far as he understood, they didn’t get on either. Well, maybe they could at least demolish the scotch John had in his room. He didn’t drink often, another legacy of Da, but a holiday was an excellent reason.

He climbed the stairs to his room and went in, hanging up his coat and shaking off the cold. He glanced in the mirror and brushed the lingering snowflakes from his hair before grabbing the scotch from the back of the closet. 

Heading back into the hallway, he headed for Sherlock’s room and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he tried again before taking a breath and trying the handle. To his surprise the door was open, and room empty.

Frowning, John closed the door again and looked up and down the hall. Oh. _Of course_. The light he’d seen from outside wasn’t this room. He called up the memory of the building, looked around a moment, then headed down the hall, knocking on a door one story up and three doors down from where he’d been.

As he raised his hand to knock, he heard the faint sounds of a violin. He froze in place, listening to the beautiful melody. It was like nothing he’d heard before. He was hardly aware he was still standing with his hand raised until the music suddenly stopped and the door was flung open.

“John Watson,” Sherlock glowered down at him. The young man had a fearsome reputation, but John wasn’t particularly scared of anyone. He lowered his hand and smiled at him, offering the bottle of scotch.

Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock stepped back. This room was actually a suite, and the largest in the building. John followed him inside. “Picked the lock, did you?”

“As if it was difficult,” scoffed Sherlock, rummaging in the cabinet until he came up with a pair of cups.

John poured the scotch and sat on the bed. “I didn’t know you played the violin.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I have an aunt in the London Symphony. Runs in our family.”

“Well it was beautiful.” John saved the burn of the liquor as it hit his tongue.

For a moment, Sherlock looked lost for words, then he turned away with his own glass. “I suppose the son of an alcoholic would have a bottle secreted in his room.”

John rolled his eyes and smiled at him. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Sherlock frowned and turned back towards him. “Why are you here, then? Wanted to see the freak for yourself?”

John looked at him a moment, then set his cup aside and stood to face. “It’s Christmas Eve and you and I are virtually the only two people on this entire campus. Why wouldn’t I come find you?”

Opening his mouth, Sherlock started to speak, but John cut him off. “Come with me,” he said, taking the glass from him and setting it aside. He grabbed the scarf and coat from the back of the door and hand them to the taller man, then led him back into the hall and out the building, stopping by his own room for only a moment to grab his own coat.

“What are we doing?” grumbled Sherlock as he turned his collar up.

“When was the last time you made a snowman?” asked John, picking up a handful of snow.

“Childish,” growled Sherlock.

“Yup,” said John. “Come on and help me.”

Sherlock stood by and watched him for a few moments, but eventually he gave in and helped. There wasn’t much snow, but they at least had a small figure next to the stairs by the time they finished. Sherlock took off his scarf and looped it around the snowman’s neck while John found some rocks for eyes.

Smiling warmly, John leaned against the cold bricks. “Now we can really enjoy that scotch.”

Sherlock obediently followed him back up to the suite. They hung up their coats and John topped off their glasses as Sherlock sprawled in the chair, sipping his drink. John reclaimed his spot on the bed and sipped his own. “Found anything else interesting with everyone gone?”

“Boring, mostly. Uni students have no imagination.” Sherlock cast his eyes heavenward.

“Well I suspect most of us are just trying to pass classes.” John watched him, noticing the elegant tilt of his chin.

“My brother insists that I attend,” said Sherlock, looking at his glass.

“What would you rather be doing?” asked John.

Sherlock shrugged. “My mind rots without something to occupy it.”

“Well, as brilliant as you are, I can only imagine.” John smiled at him from over his cup. Feeling emboldened he found his found his feet and made his way over to him. “Perhaps I could distract you.” 

Sherlock looked up at him. “Shagging? Boring.” But his eyes had gone a little darker.

“Have you ever _actually_ shagged?” John licked his lips, enjoying the feeling of towering over him.

There was that scoff again, as if John was a complete and banal idiot. But it also wasn’t a yes. John leaned down a bit. “I bet you would enjoy shagging very much.”

“Oh is dear John Watson going to blow my mind? Make me see rainbows?” Sherlock curled up a bit tighter around himself.

John took a step back. He grabbed his bottle of scotch. “Offers on the table. I’m going back to my room. If you don’t die of boredom by the time everyone comes back, say hello sometime.” He turned on his heel and walked out, sipping his drink and making a mental note to make sure the cup got returned to the right room when he was done.

He sighed as he returned to his room and set the bottle aside. Ridiculous. Just because the man was brilliant and had amazing eye and dark curls… John shook his head and finished his drink. Da had alway been certain his boy was queer. It wasn’t entirely true, John liked both. Harry was the one who only liked girls. He stripped down to just pants and climbed into bed, leaving his door ajar, just in case Sherlock changed his mind.

Sometime in the wee hours, John came awake to the creak of the door opening. Barely cracking his eyes, he held his breath as Sherlock stood silhouetted in the doorway. The taller man closed it part way, leaving light from the hallway spilling into the room, and stripped before climbing in behind him. John rolled over and cupped his cheeks, kissing him softly. Sherlock moaned against him. 

John ran a hand through that soft hair as he broke the kiss. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, as if talking about a whisper would break the spell.

“I am. I have...observed you for some time,” admitted Sherlock. “I...may have stayed for the holiday because of you.”

John smiled and kissed him again. “You could have said something, you prat.”

“I believe I just did.” Sherlock’s hands cupped his shoulders, licking along the seam of his lips.

John rolled on top of him and deepened the kiss, grinding down slowly. Sherlock’s legs parted for him and he slotted perfectly into the cradle of his hip. Gentle fingers stroked John’s lower back. John reached down and pushed off his pants, taking them both in hand.

Sherlock moaned and arched against him. John raised his head. “You’ve really never done this?”

“Not with a partner, no.” Sherlock leaned up to kiss him again. 

Shifting down, John kissed down the pale chest, pausing only to grab lube from his bedside drawer before reaching Sherlock’s cock and planting a kiss on the head of it. Carefully, he started licking the shaft, making the other man moan and drop his head heavily to the pillow, long fingers running through John’s hair.

John held the slender hips as he swallowed him down. Sherlock cried out, making John glad they were all alone. Letting go, John kept bobbing his head as he opened the bottle and spread Sherlock’s thighs, stroking his entrance before pressing one slicked finger inside. He raised his head and regarded his lover. “I don’t have to take you, if you want to wait on that.”

“I want you to,” panted Sherlock. “Please, John.”

“Relax, I’ll get you there.” John patiently fingered him open, giving his cock a few more licks, but careful not to overstimulate him. Sherlock writhed on his fingers, gasping and grabbing at the sheets, spreading himself wider, alternately watching him and squeezing his eyes shut against the pleasure.

Finally John deemed him ready. He squeezed his own full cock and reached for a condom. “This might hurt a bit. I need you to tell me to stop if it’s too much. Promise me?”

Sherlock nodded and reached for him, eyes shining in the dim light. John lined up and started pressing inside, watching his face, smoothing his thumb along Sherlock’s cheek.

“So...full,” moaned Sherlock.

“I’m barely in there,” John leaned in and kissed him. “And you’re so tight. Neither of us is going to last.” 

Sherlock didn’t respond verbally, contenting himself with dragging his teeth along John’s shoulder. John chuckled softly and started thrusting slowly, caging Sherlock’s head between his forearms. The lanky legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper until at last he was fully seated, panting, pausing to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s before beginning to thrust again.

Groaning, Sherlock’s hands clung to his shoulders. John worked a hand between them and started stroking his lover, making Sherlock’s eyes slam shut again, breath short between his teeth. Only a few more strokes and he was coming, clamping hard around John and sending him tumbling over himself, moaning Sherlock’s name.

John wrapped him in strong arms and held him as they both slowly came down. Sherlock kissed him one more time and mumbled something.

“What’s that?” asked John, pushing damp curls from his eyes.

“I said I bet we can sully every bed in this dorm before everyone gets back.”

John laughed. “Why stick with the beds?” he carefully pulled out and binned the condom, settling in with Sherlock in his arms. “First, lets see how sore you are tomorrow, then we’ll decide from there.”

“I suppose,” muttered Sherlock with delight in his tone.

They fell asleep wrapped up with one another and Sherlock wasn’t bored for one more minute of the rest of vacation.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to guixonlove and humshappily for helping me through and thegeekcooks for the read. You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
